A Moment of Love
by AtomicLithium
Summary: The second installment of Walking Among Walkers, now with more romance!
1. The Only Exception

**A/N: **Why hello again. :) This is the second part of Walking Among the Walkers, and just like the last one, nothing is mine (including the titles of the chapters) except my original characters, thought process, etc. _  
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Read, review, and enjoy!

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><p><em>I love you.<em>

_I love you._

_I love you._

These words rang in my head all morning, interrupted every now and then with a few sighs and moans from Daryl's sleeping being.

The most frightening part of these words is that they didn't only come from Daryl, but from Shane also. Did he really mean it, or was this really some last words I-want-to-be-remembered bullshit?

There was only one way to find out.

Ah, yes. I forgot this was the beginning. Ahem, ahem. So, for all of you whom are tuning in just now, my name is Ayden Arezzo. I am madly in love with Daryl Dixon, and confused about Shane Walsh. I do often get ahead of myself. Anyway, carry on.

I practically jumped off the air mattress, making Daryl angrily swat the air in his sleep and rolled over. I tiptoed the rest of the way out of the tent.

The sun had freshly made its appearance in the sky, making yet another sunny, summer day in Georgia. Although the soft dew in the grass tickled my bare feet as I walked toward where Shane was polishing his gun by the cars, I still confidently strode up to him and plopped myself in the chair adjacent to him.

"Good morning," Shane Walsh brightly said, giving me one of the biggest smiles I've ever seen out of him. It made my heart do a tiny flip.

"Good morning," I said between barred teeth, slightly annoyed by his giddiness this morning. His eyebrows rose.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, returning to his shotgun with a grimy toothbrush.

"Yeah, you got an explanation for me?"

His eyebrows rose another inch until it came to him. "Ah, those words."

My arms crossed over my chest when he looked at me casually.

For those who don't know, Shane told me that he loved me a few days ago, when a zombie horde was on our asses. Coincidentally, the day after, Daryl said those same, antagonizing words. We thought we were going to die then, too, except I took Daryl's words much more kindly than Shane's.

"So you want an explanation, I suppose?" Shane asked. I almost thought he was stalling to make me angry.

"I'd love one, if you have one for me."

Shane paused his gun cleaning and looked into the distance. I tried to look for what he was looking at. "The sky ain't gonna give you an answer."

He looked back at me, the narrowing of his eyes telling me he was becoming annoyed with my nagging. "I love you."

I narrowed my eyes right back. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"And what if I do?" he said seriously, making my eyes roll as his serious composure broke into a laugh. "Okay, I'll tell you why I said that."

"Yes, please," I half begged, half whined. The sun was starting to rise higher in the sky, which meant that Rick was about to start getting everybody up.

"Because," he paused like he didn't want to say anything after all, "it's because… I love you."

Shane busted out laughing, making me shriek in frustration and bounce out of the lawn chair, smacking his head before storming off into the forest.

"Wait, wait! Ayden," Shane called after me, setting down his shotgun and quickly heading towards me. I swiveled around angrily as he pulled on my shoulder.

"Not everything is a joke, Shane!" I yelled taking a few angry steps backward. Tears threatened to drop from my bottom eyelids.

Shane saw my eyes becoming watery. "No, please don't cry."

"I want a straight answer out of you," I demanded, sniffling my nose to add to the effect.

The breeze was still slightly chilly, and even though the sun's rays had a tiny effect on the warming on my skin, I could feel warmth coursing through my veins as Shane took a step closer. He took another step, and another, until he was inches away from my face. My breath caught in my throat.

"An answer for an answer," he said, his breath on the tip of my nose sending chills down my back.

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I understood what he was saying. I just didn't want to understand.

"Run away with me," Shane whispered, his hands sliding up my arms. He pulled them from my chest and waited for a reaction out of me before he smiled and grabbed my hands.

"I- that's not a question," I stuttered, my cheeks becoming the gathering place for the heat that was tracing my veins.

"I can rephrase it to be a question if you'd like. But I think you know what I'm saying."

I didn't resist his hands when they left my hands and trailed up my sides, shivering when they stopped at my shoulders. He pulled me even closer.

Before his mouth reached mine, he pulled out a little slip of paper from my pocket. It was the one that Carol used to write down what everyone wanted for Birthday-Day. He carefully unraveled it and found his name.

"You never got me that hamburger," Shane slyly commented, smiling when I rolled my eyes.

"Unless you want one made out of squirrel, I can't help you," I laughed, not being able to help my forefinger trace his strong jaw line. I caught myself and clenched my teeth, letting my hand fall back down.

"I know something else that would be better than a hamburger," Shane purred, folding the paper back in its square and sliding it back in my back pocket.

Before I could reply, his lips brushed my lips, making them part slightly. I reached for his hand that made his way to my neck, grasping it romantically as he pulled me closer and pressed his lips against mine. It was the first official kiss that actually meant _something_, not just a lusty exchange of passion or a thing of last hope. This was real.

We broke a part for a few seconds, looking back at the camp to see Rick waking everybody up, partially confused at something. He was probably looking for us. That's when I saw Daryl inch out of his tent, drowsily looking around for me too. He noticed that Shane was gone too, and his jaw clenched.

I backed away from Shane, still holding the hand that had held my neck. Shane stood there, looking hurt, mad, and above all else, jealous. My eyebrows furrowed in sorrow as I pulled him back for one last kiss. It was over too soon.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, kissing his hand before making my way back to the camp.

There's nothing like starting a day with disappointing someone.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Daryl asked, his eyes still droopy from sleep. I bit my lower lip and shrugged.

"I was just getting some fresh air."

Daryl looked around us sarcastically. "We're _outside _right now."

I sighed and walked away, not wanting to spill anything and disappointing yet another person. I already felt as if I'd disappointed Daryl enough.

"Why do you always do that?" Daryl asked, tugging on my shoulder before I got too far. I could tell he woke on the wrong side of the bed; his voice was already heavily laced with annoyance and anger.

"Do what?" I asked, seriously not getting what he meant. I first thought that it was just angry rambling: what he does when he's annoyed and wants something to argue about. I'd noticed it had happened a lot since the CDC.

Daryl once told me that he and Merle had short fuses because of their parents and their lack of, well, parenting. I already knew that Merle had basically raised Daryl himself, and that their Dad was a drunk and both of their parents beat them, but what I didn't know is that they had ran away together when Merle was old enough. Since they are about fifteen years apart, Daryl had only been 12 and Merle was already 28.

Our childhoods were so similar, yet beyond different. That's somewhat how I felt about Shane and my relationship. How could something that feels so good feel so wrong all at the same time?

"This… walkin' away when I'm talkin' to you. It's like you're hiding somethin'," he said suspiciously, crossing his arms. I inwardly started panicking.

"Sorry," I apologized, thinking that it was a good start to my endless amount of lies concerning Shane.

"That's not an explanation," he nagged, raising one eyebrow into the distance. I looked over my shoulder to where Shane was exiting the forest, looking our way with narrowed eyes. Before I could make up more bullshit lies, Daryl poked me in the forehead to regain my attention. "Didn't you just come from the forest?"

"No," I said quickly, my offensive tone striking Daryl as a lie.

"Dammit!" he yelled, uncrossing his arms and slamming his fist into the nearest object, which just happened to be Shane's Jeep. I jumped as the impact rattled the Jeep, sending a few glaring and curious looks from everyone as he stormed away.

The tears from the forest now made an appearance.


	2. Passive

**A/N: **Sorry for the insane long wait everyone, I promise I'll make it up to you with the next few chapters!

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><p>Guilt was all I could think of the rest of the day. I tasted guilt in the shitty tasting black coffee (which, by the way, was made with a pot of boiling water and a strainer), absent of sugar and cream and all that superb tasting Starbucks mocha flavoring. I heard words of guilt coming from Andrea spoken to Dale, and since Dale took her gun away, I heard his guilty tone through everything he said. And especially, I saw guilt travel past my tent a few times, looking at me in such a way that I almost threw something at him. Then it came to me: the guilt's name is Shane.<p>

Not that I tasted Shane in my coffee, or anything.

At the end of the day, my head ached of such guilt that if we didn't have stupid 'group meetings' at the end of the day, I would've passed out hours ago.

That day had been an especially unproductive one. The warden by the name of Rick will not be happy.

"It's the end of summer," Rick said, his voice void of emotion. I suspiciously looked around for the reason why Rick was in a pissy mood, but then again, everyone was pissy. When it comes to moral versus practical decisions, the group was split right down the middle. And I'd noticed it'd been the people who I didn't really get along with that sided with Rick's moral decisions. Guess that meant that Daryl, Shane, Andrea, and I were on the bad guy side.

We were all gathered by what we called the Pit; a small, dirt circle that we made whenever we camped at a different place. It usually had a fire pit right in the middle, hence it being called the Pit. Rick had called it the 'heart of camp', whatever that meant. Cheesy bastard.

At the end of the day, everyday, we'd all circle around the fire pit and Rick would make shit decisions based on hunches and Shane and/or I and/or Daryl would try to prove him wrong. Just like clockwork.

"Your point being," I said, raising my eyebrows walking over to the empty space between Daryl and Andrea. Everyone looked at me like I did something wrong. Andrea simply patted my shoulder.

"That means winter is closer," Rick said, raising his voice like he always did when he was about to make a decision that the whole group would have to obey. "And we're only a few miles away from Alabama."

"I hope that's not the point you're making," Shane antagonized along with me. I watched as a small vein in Rick's head pop out as he clenched his teeth.

This may be off the point, but Rick sometimes reminds me of King Kong. I mean, he _had _to blow up any minute, right? Patience only goes so far, as Shane has proven. Plus, everyone would enjoy a bit of excitement around here. Daily routines of clothes washing and Walker watching were not enough to satisfy these people.

"If we stick as close to the seaboard as possible, we can ride out the winter season."

"What's so bad about winter?" Shane and I asked at the same time. Daryl glared at us, like always, suspicious of our interlocking actions.

"Yeah, maybe the cold would slow the Walkers down," Andrea inputted, quickly hushed by a shallow look from Rick.

Rick stood silent for a few moments, surveying every one of us as if we were cattle. I shifted on my feet nervously as his gaze lingered on Shane.

"We stay on track," Rick finalized. I choked back a groan.

"Wait, on track to what?" Carol asked, looking at Daryl like he had the answer. I rolled my eyes.

Lori nodded, agreeing, and furrowed her eyebrows at her husband. "Yeah, where exactly are we going?"

Rick paused, taking a big huff of breath before saying, "I found a farm. It's in Alabama, but not too far from here. I believe it might have survivors in it."

A hushed chatter broke out across the group, and only Shane, Daryl and I glared at Rick.

"When were we going to hear about this supposed safe haven?" I asked, pursing my lips after I spoke. Rick bowed his head and put his hands in his pockets.

Before Rick could answer my question, Shane asked, "Is this another one of your pipe dreams?" He was directly referring to the CDC.

Rick glared at Shane and he glared right back. Tension was increasing as the seconds ticked on.

"We leave in the morning," Rick said in between barred teeth, seemingly leaning over the fire pit in attempt to shove his words in Shane's face. Shane simply pursed his lips until they turned a shade whiter than paper.

Shane raised a finger at Rick and opened his mouth, ready to spit something out that would probably anger the people more. I slammed his finger down and pushed his chest until we were away from the Pit and away from anyone who could hear us.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, slamming my palms in his shoulders a second time.

"He- he," Shane stuttered. If he was so angry he couldn't even say anything, then it was bad. I hushed him quietly.

"You have to understand that you don't make the calls anymore," I whispered harshly.

Shane stroked a hand across his hair, staring up at the moon as if it held the answers to our future.

"I know how you feel, but look at what I'm doing? I'm keeping my mouth shut. It saves me a lot of-"

"He's ruling the whole group like it's his! Even you were here before he was." Shane interrupted, glancing at the group. They were still surrounding the Pit, patiently awaiting results of Shane's latest freak out.

"You think I'm a better leader than Rick," I assumed, my grim frown growing into an egotistical smile.

"That's not what I said," he said, a faint appearance of what seemed to be a blush shaded his cheeks as I started cracking up.

"Are you sure? I'm not a therapist but I do think-."

"Stop twisting my words around!"

"Why?" I squealed, laughing harder when he started to look constipated, "does it make you mad?"

Everyone was now looking our way in suspicion (or a sense of annoyance from Daryl), so I tried to calm myself down to avoid anymore awkward moments between all of us. There seemed to be a lot these days.

Shane entirely pulled me away from the line of hearing and sight of the group, leading us behind the line of cars. My laughs subsided as I could see we were about to have a serious moment.

"Why aren't you serious about anything?" Shane asked, crossing his arms across his chest as if to show that he was more serious than I was. I mimicked his move.

"I am too serious about things," I said, slightly offended. I searched my mind for anything I could say to anger him.

"Yeah? What?" He asked, a slight smile growing across his face as I stayed silent.

"My future," I said, and a similar smile grew on my face when he smirked. I knew what he was going to say next, and I readied words on the tip of my tongue.

He scoffed. "What future?"

The words that I wanted to say badly got lost in my train of thought as I studied what Shane meant. What future? The question seemed to be on everyone's mind lately, but I didn't believe anyone actually believed that we didn't have much of a future left.

Okay, so that was definitely_ not_ what I thought he was going to say.

"What do you mean?" I said, clearing my throat from the dryness that invaded my mouth.

His arm reached out to his Jeep as he put his weight on it. "We don't have a future here."

I exhaled slowly, thinking about how he used the term 'we'. "Who's this 'we'?"

"Me and you," he put bluntly, peeking over the soft top of the Jeep.

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against his chest. "Shane, there is no 'we'. Maybe if it was all of us… I mean, Andrea, Daryl, you and me, maybe we could work something out."

I let my sentence trail away as I looked up to his eyes; they read of a lost cause.

"Just, tell me if you'll think about it," he whispered, smoothing my hair with the other hand, "please think about it."

I shook my head and backed away from Shane, and before I returned to the sight's view of the rest of the group, I turned back to Shane. "I'll think about it."

The real thing I was going to think about that night was if Shane was going to tear me and Daryl apart.

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><p>So, I just realized that there has been a lot going on with Shane and Ayden (sorry about that, I blame it on Shane dying in the series! ;_;), but I promise there will be a lot more about Ayden and Daryl coming up soon. I'll keep you posted!<p> 


	3. Rebel Without a Pause

**A/N: Guess what I finally have for you guys now! I'm sorry this took so long, I discovered Tumblr and I've been madly roleplaying on there. But here it is! :D**

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><p>"It's that time again," Rick commented, the first thing he said that morning. Everyone looked either sleepy or annoyed, or a mix of both in my case. We were all packed up and ready to head west, to Alabama. "We can never stay in one place for long."<p>

Shane, who was being unusually peaceful that morning, nodded his head in agreement.

As we all stood next to the line of cars, awaiting Rick's 'last words', I watched the sun rise: a thing of peace that I hardly got to see anymore. Even though the sun meant another day dodging Walkers and low food supplies, it meant another day of surviving. And that's all we could've asked for.

Andrea, who was still very off beat about the death of her sister Amy, sat in silence on the hood of the Winnebago, staring off into something only she could see.

"We need to make one last trip to town before hitting Alabama," Rick said, not a drop of drowsiness in his tone. In fact, there wasn't a drop of anything. He was starting to worry me.

"I'll go," Shane said, volunteering himself like always. "Ayden will come with me too."

Before I could even register the forced volunteer of myself, Daryl piped up. "No. If Ayden's goin', then I'm goin' too."

"Daryl's right," Dale said, being in full character of his role of peacemaker. "His bow is quieter than your gun."

Shane saw no argument to be had in this, surprisingly. Hell, for all I knew, he was just plain giving up.

Rick nodded towards us. "Daryl, Ayden, you take Shane's Jeep. We'll wait for you here, then we head to Alabama."

Everyone did some sort of acknowledging action to prove that they all understood, except for Daryl and me, who directly went to the Jeep once Rick finished talking and Andrea, who still stared off into space.

Rick came to the Jeep's passenger window just as I shut the door.

"You guys know what to get, right? Food, water, first aid kits?" Rick said, leaning against the edge of the door.

"This ain't our first time, Rick. We know what we're lookin' for," Daryl said, almost harshly. I tried to reverse it by patting Rick's arm.

"Don't worry. We'll be back with more supplies," I said in a comforting tone. Daryl started the Jeep and carefully swerved around the other cars before Rick could say anything else.

"What, you bangin' him too, now?" Daryl snapped. My face got red hot.

"Rick's married, Daryl," I counteracted, hoping he wouldn't catch that I didn't deny that question.

"So you're not denying," he said. I almost said something when he finished his sentence. "About screwing anybody else."

"Do you mean Shane?" I asked innocently, clenching my teeth as the speedometer reached 60 on the small, country road that was lined with creeks and ditches that were perfect for, say, a Jeep to get stuck in.

I disbelievingly watched him pull out a cigarette out of his pants pocket, put it in his mouth, and light the cancer stick up before smacking his leg.

"Would you rather die of cancer or die by crashing Shane's jeep?" I yelled, liking the way that I brought up both issues at the same time. He rolled his eyes and looked in the rearview mirror, and seeing that the soft top wasn't on, he flicked the cigarette behind him.

"Since when do you smoke, anyway?" I asked, folding my arms over my lap and side glaring at him.

"Since now, alright!" He yelled, in frustration and intense anger, gripping the steering wheel as he pushed it to seventy-five.

I stayed silent as I studied the way he chewed on his tongue, his eyes glued to the road. I almost waved in front of his almost robotic face to make sure that he didn't already kill himself with the cigarette, when I smelt something funny.

I sniffed the air a few more times before ruling out that it wasn't the steam coming out of Daryl's ears.

"Do you smell something? It's like, a fire or something," I commented, looking over at him when his face relaxed slightly.

"Ya," he said, wrinkling his nose, "smells close."

Before I go on, I just wanted to say that I love you all of you, and even though my life was short lived, you made it all better.

Just kidding. You thought that I was going to die, huh? No? Okay.

Anyway, I'd just like to point out something. It felt like everything was exploding around me.

My ribs felt like they were imploding on themselves, a growing fear coming with every breath as I imagined myself asphyxiating. Is it too late to mention that I was claustrophobic?

The relationships that revolved around my daily life were exploding; some with a dire and sudden sense of hate and some with a staggering sense of infatuation. It's the apocalypse and this is all I can say. Kill me now.

And now, the flames of a fire in the backseat of the Jeep were enough warning that I, along with Daryl and the most awesome Jeep that ever existed was about to explode, giving the fact that a half full gas can sat conveniently right behind my seat.

Before I could do a flying barrel roll out of the window, Daryl put a hand under my chin and forced me to look at him.

"You ever jumped out of a car before?" He asked, a little more serious than I liked.

"I'm a car jumping virgin," I whispered, also a bit serious.

He let go of my chin, hitting the dashboard and opening my door.

Daryl didn't even get to step on the break of the Jeep that was going close to eighty miles an out before he yelled, "tuck 'n roll, baby!", and pushed me out of the car.

Of course, my face hit the asphalt first, tearing off a considerable chunk of skin on my cheek beside my ear. After that, I actually did a barrel roll on the ground; my right thigh was next to receive painful damage. Lastly, but not less painfully, I skidded under a wood fence and straight into a lake that was to the right of the road.

I groaned in pain as I attempted to float in the surprisingly deep water, mentally checking my damage level. Nothing was broken, I could tell, save my broken skin, but there were probably scary big chunks of missing flesh out of my cheek and legs.

The stench of smoke and burnt rubber awakened me from my daze, flipping over to painfully swim to the edge of the water. I hesitated my decision to crawl out of the water and onto the rocky shoreline because the water made my gashes slightly less horrific feeling, but seeing that there was limited sun left in the sky, I forcefully dragged my achy body to the shore.

"Daryl!" I yelled, my heart beating faster as I thought of my love's condition. When I didn't receive an answer, I made my shaky legs support my weight as I used the fence lining the road as a crutch.

I searched for Daryl frantically; since the gas can was mainly on my side, I probably got thrown the worst from the shock of the explosion. But did Daryl get flown from the car, too? Or did he just give his life to save mine? I waited for a move of something, anything other than the flames that devoured the best Jeep in mankind's history and the slight breeze that rocked the treetops.

Damn, Shane was going to be _pissed._

The blast of the car was loud and it was almost dark. If he was still alive (which I prayed to any form of God that he was), I would have to find him soon. Unless, of course, he wasn't badly injured and already made his way to camp, which was only a few miles away and a jogging distance of about ten minutes. Would he leave me though, so confident that I was okay and on my way to camp myself? Was he not searching around for me like lost sheep like I was for him?

Many questions swirled around my head, leaving false worry and dread in my mind as they trailed along.

"Daryl?" I called out one last time. The worry in my mind was placed in my voice and carried out to wherever Daryl may have been.

The sun was barely visible when I limped towards the incinerated Jeep, careful not to get too close, and I peeked in the I was sitting in, fearful of what may or may not still be sitting in the driver's seat.

The flames subsided for a quick second as I caught a glimpse of what used to be the driver's seat.

It was empty.

I almost collapsed in both relief and pain as most of my questions were bittersweetly answered. Of course, that left one final question unanswered.

Where was Daryl?

After searching at least half a block in every direction in the cluster of trees on the left side of the road, the sun had fully set. I had no gun, no knife, and nothing was salvageable from the Jeep's ruins. The best thing I could've done was climb a tree and wait it out until morning. So, that's what I did.

"Ow," I moaned for the 100th time, fighting the temptation to touch my wounds and carefully leaning against the bark of the Cypress tree. The rough bark still scratched and irritated my leg gashes to all hell like course sandpaper, no matter how soft I tried to lean against it. The sound of the explosion attracted Walkers as expected, flooding the ground with hungry and curious shit eaters.

Okay, problem number two: How am I supposed to get down in the morning without any weapons?

_I'm fucked, _I thought, closing my eyes and leaning my head back. _If there's no rescue party out for me, I'm fucked._

I watched as the moon rose higher in the sky, as there was literally nothing else to do other than worry my ass off.

Luckily, since there was a full moon out that night, I could visibly tell that it was midnight as the moon shone down on me from right up above. It had been 4 hours since the explosion and both the Walkers hadn't subsided and there was no sign of anyone with a heart beat.

_Might as well get some sleep, _I drowsily thought, almost glad I wouldn't be woken up by Rick's happy-go-lucky mood in the morning. My eyes were drifting closed, only for them to shoot back open again before I took a head dive down to the ground.

_And now, to make matters worse, I couldn't sleep. Great._

It had passed two hours when most of the Walkers because bored of waiting for me and wandered off, almost guaranteeing a safe trip down the tree but running back to camp still might've been a problem. Especially without a gun, which Shane took back, and without my knife, which I had stupidly thought I wouldn't need it and left in Daryl's truck when we packed.

_Alabama_, I dazedly thought, the cold breeze sending a euphoric cooling effect similar to the icy side of IcyHot. _A farm in Alabama._

I sighed and shut my eyes, thinking of what in the world Rick was going to do with a farm that might have other survivors in it.

He was changing into an angrier, more violent type of person everyday, just what the apocalypse can do to you. Not so violent to reach the level of Daryl and Shane, perhaps, but I feared that it would happen eventually. I almost hoped that Rick's actions would be on the more practical side versus the moral side like he usually stayed on. A girl can hope.

I started to drift off to sleep again when the rev of a motorcycle engine snapped me awake.

"Merle?" I yelled out blindly, slowly placing my feet close to the fork of the branch as I leveled myself down the tree. The nearest walker to me began approaching me with a ravenous growl, silenced quickly with a crossbow bolt to the middle of the forehead. Daryl's signature target point.

"Close 'nuff," Daryl grunted, emerging from behind one of the larger cypresses. The crunch of leaves startled a few nearby squirrels and I listened as they scurried away.

"You scared dinner away," I joked, even though my tone didn't show it. I furrowed my eyebrows at his subtle anger.

Daryl was limping severely, cut up the same way as myself. I almost got the urge to play nurse and probe every and all the cuts on his body.

"Let's go," he yelled, putting another bolt through a walker before ushering me back to the road by the arm.

"Hey, let go!" I demanded, trying to yank my hand away, only hurting it more. He squeezed my arm tighter in almost a mocking manner.

"We gotta go," he urged, placing me on the back of Merle's motorcycle. He straddled the front seat, waiting until I got a good grip around his chest before blasting it into full speed.

"Where's the truck?" I asked over the wind. It burnt my wounds even more.

"Don't matter no more," he muttered, taking a scary turn to the left. I definitely didn't want to be thrown off of anything moving ever again, so I tapped his chest as a warning.

After processing what he said, my eyebrows furrowed. "Why, what happened?"

"Camp got overrun by walkers. Only thing I got time to pack was what's a'ready on here."

The blunt, short sentences Daryl omitted frightened me slightly.

"My knife?" I shrieked, carefully twisting around just enough to have the burlap sack in sight. Sure enough, as I dug through the contents, my tattoo-pattern handled knife sat snugly in between a bottle of water and a bottle of jack.

"'S the only thing that got taken with us," he said, sniffling his nose. Was it the wind or had he been crying?

"Is everyone okay?" I asked softly, resting my head against his shoulder to express my fear of his answer.

"Sophia went missin'."

My eyes closed in despair, choking back whatever tears may have made their way through my eyes.

"Are you okay?" I whispered as we made our way to an empty gas station. Although I wasn't exactly excited about Daryl's increase in his relationship with Carol (or perhaps I wasn't fond of how he conducted himself around her), pain was pain and Daryl, even though he'd never admit it, was going through it. I could really tell that Sophia was like a daughter to Daryl.

"I'm fine," he said, a blatant lie, getting off the bike after shutting it down. I bit my lip as I stayed on the bike until Daryl unexpectedly held out his hand.

After he helped me off the bike, he pulled me in for a hug, another unexpected thing. It was the strongest hug we'd shared yet.

"You okay?" Daryl asked in turn, whispering into my hair covered ear. He pulled away momentarily to wipe blood that dripped from the side of my forehead.

"You look worse than I do," I chuckled humorlessly, no longer holding those tears back. I cried softly into his shoulder until I was out of breath. It seemed like all of our lives now revolved around tears and cries of pain.

"These're pretty deep," he said after I pulled away. I wiped my eyes and looked at the back of my arms.

"Yeah," I replied, sniffling and looking up at his eyes.

"Guess I musta jumped a little late," he sighed, looking at his own cuts and even a few burns, even worse than mine. "Sorry I left ya, Ayden."

I always knew he was being sincere when he used my name at the end of a sentence, compared to Shane who used my name to express anger. _I'm sick of this, Ayden. _He'd say. _Leave me the fuck alone, Ayden._

"As long as you think it was the right thing to do," I said after a long pause.

"It wasn't," he said, frustrated with himself. I calmed him down with a caress to the cheek. "I left 'cuz I assumed you'd be headin' back to camp, too."

"I couldn't," I explained. "I must've passed out for a while, because it'd been almost dark when I started looking for you."

"I left you," Daryl said, a hint of rising anger in his tone, "with nothin'"

"I'm alive now, right? That's all that matters."

I winced as a sharp pain went though the cuts on my right arm, the one that primarily got the worst of it. My left arm was already healing.

Daryl grabbed my wrist quickly but softly, inspecting the worst of the damage. From the look on his face it wasn't good.

"Where's the group?" I asked, grinding my teeth as the pain got worse as the sun became higher in the sky, warming the air. At least with cold wind, it numbs the pain. Warm air makes it feel ten times worse.

"I left when they did but I split up with 'em to get ya," he said, slinging his crossbow over his elbow, getting ready for any intruders we might've come by inside the station.

"Shane didn't even-"

"Nope," Daryl interrupted bluntly, picking up on the almost betrayal I felt. Shane, the one who supposedly wanted to run away with me, didn't give a thought to coming after me? Or maybe Daryl was lying, with sudden haste that made me wonder.

"Are you sure?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and following him into the gas station, making sure that I grabbed my knife. "He didn't offer to go?"

"Nope," Daryl said, shooting a stray walker. I strapped the holster around my thigh before looking up at him again.

"Did he ask about me when you got back?"

"Nope," he said, "they was all busy killin' off the wanderers that came through." He paused and grunted. "They was a lot of wanderers this time."

"Not even an expression of worry directed-"

"Nothing," he interrupted again, looking at me before shooting another stray. "Now hush before you attract more of 'em."

My mouth dropped in anger as he walked away from me, rummaging through a box from behind the counter. He pulled out a couple dozen granola bars, and with a wisp of breath to clear the dust, he piled them all onto the counter.

"Strawberry or chocolate?" Daryl asked with a slight tone of glee, grabbing a strawberry granola in one hand and a chocolate in the other and reaching out to me. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, saying that I didn't want any. Temptation got the best of me and I dropped the defiance, snatching a strawberry bar. Daryl looked at me in that teasing manner more similar to Shane as he opened the wrapper and took a gigantic bite.

"What?" I snapped, walking over to the soda fountain and sitting on the counter there. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"So, you mad at me now?"

I didn't answer.


	4. Soon, My Friend

**A/N: Flashback chapter everyone! The next chapter will pick up right after the last chapter. I'm actually really proud of this chapter so if you could tell me how I did I would really appreciate it. :3**

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><p>"Welcome to Georgia's Center of Disease Control's sixteenth annual family banquet!" The CDC'S director, a woman with hair grey from stress, cheered into the microphone. I looked away from my apple martini and watched as everyone clapped.<p>

Being in Georgia was like a vacation outside of the country for me. New York was the only thing I knew, so this million dollar shin dig felt like a tour of the Eiffel Tower. That and my illegal drinking made the highly air conditioned party filled with snooty rich PhD's made me feel super luxurious. Compare that with not ever knowing your sleeping arrangements. One night it would be on Edgar's couch, the next I found myself bumming in the common room.

"Now," the woman continued. If I squinted my eyes just enough, I could read her shiny, bronze name tag. It was engraved with the name _Candace. _"The Staff and I," she turned and motioned toward a long table up against the stage that a dozen important looking men and woman sat at, "welcome you to try the free refreshments stationed right in front of me, here." She giggled as if she had one too many drinks. "Dinner will be served shortly."

As everyone clapped as she exited the stage, I scoped out the table she was referring to as 'the Staff'. One member in particular beamed at Candace with joy. Once she sat next to her admirer, she patted his hand and they both hugged.

"Adorable, right?" Edgar said from behind me, his usual sass and sarcasm leaking from his tone. A smile played at my lips as he stepped beside me and shoved a hand in his black pantsuit's pocket. The other hand, equipped with a faux quartz watch, held a glass of some hard liquor on ice.

"Who, them?" I asked, motioning to the table with my shoulder since my hand was busy putting the martini to my lips. He smirked as he looked down at it. "I guess they're okay."

"Candace and Edwin Jenner," Edgar said enviously, as if Edwin stole Candace from him, which was a very unlikely possibility.

I looked over at them once more, and realized they were younger than the rest. They all had wrinkly faces and wisdom yielding white beards. The Jenner's couldn't have been older than forty five.

"What's so special about them?" I asked, taking another sip of my drink to keep me busy.

"You'll see," Edgar replied deviously, entailing that my night was going to be filled with interesting twists and turns.

Just as he ushered me to the nearest empty table, which was conveniently night in front of the bar, another woman entered the stage, decked out in a long black satin dress that cascaded down her hourglass figure. Taking the microphone with the perfectly manicured hand that didn't hold a pink drink; she beamed a wide, white, blinding grin that demanded the attention of the crowd.

"Hello, everybody," she said giddily with a voice that sounded like something I'd want to come out of my mouth every time I spoke. She didn't look much older than me. Then again, I _did _look old enough to be served alcohol with no problem. "Please, let me welcome the stage, the Head Director, Mr. Harry Williams!"

The woman held out a hand, helping the little old man onto the stage and directing him to the podium. He had a set of cards in his hand, telling me that I'd be sitting here for a challenging amount of time before getting a refill.

"Thank you, Adelaide," Mr. Williams said in a surprisingly steady tone. He kissed her cheek before she exited the stage.

Setting the cards on the podium, he cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and looked out into the crowd. "Please forgive me. My public speaking hasn't improved over the years."

Scattered chuckled erupted and I noticed that they said 'please' and 'welcome' an excessive amount.

"As some of you may know, I've come here to join this celebration from Florida."

Exactly what were we celebrating?

"My daughters are on a road trip, so I have quite a bit of spare time. In fact, they may be in Georgia as I speak." He paused and chucked, as if to relive a fond memory. "Anyway, I'm here to discuss a few important events that have come to my attention."

I suspected that Mr. Williams wasn't here on his free time. He was here on business.

Mr. Williams took a deep, nervous breath and adjusted his glasses to read the note cards. "It has come to my attention that a new strain of meningitis has broken out in New Mexico."

New Mexico, where the CDC does all its underground testing: suspicious, much?

"It appears to be highly contagious and quick spreading, not unlike the flu. The symptoms include but are not limited to; fever, rash, irritability-"

Tuning Mr. Williams out, I watched as the girl with the satin dress pass out little bottles of hand sanitizer. When I received mine, my eyebrows flew to my hairline. The front label, to my amazement, read: Apocalypse Repellant. Stay healthy!

"What the fuck are they planning for?" Edgar sneered quietly, slamming his bottle on the midnight blue table cloth.

I shrugged, secretly thinking that what Mr. Williams was talking about was way more serious than portrayed. "Is it the alcohol or does this actually have the word apocalypse on it."

Edgar scoffed. "Whatever it is, I'm not important enough to be informed."

See, the whole reason Edgar got invited here in the first place is because he recently got promoted and stationed in Georgia started next fall. In fact, the only reason I was slouched on a suede chair cover with an alcoholic drink feeling slightly buzzed was because Edgar felt bad for me. His parent situation and mine were similar, except his just didn't want anything to do with him because he was gay. I think he mentioned that he still visits them every Christmas, though.

"Please," Mr. Williams pleaded. I rolled my eyes. "If you see someone who looks sick, don't hesitate to call the number on back of the hand sanitizer bottles. And whatever you do- don't share bodily fluids with them in any way."

A hushed chatter broke among the crowd, signaling to me that this wasn't some daily bulletin board announcement that the CDC makes. It also told me that the people who already knew about this sat snugly beside the stage.

So, again, what in the hell were we celebrating?

Then it occurred to me: I was only Edgar's plus one. I wasn't family at all. Did I just hear something I shouldn't have?

"Edgar," I whispered, leaning on the table. He raised his brows and looked at me intently. "This was supposed to be a family gathering."

He looked around for any overhearers and leaned closer to me. "It was strictly for family. I told the commissioner that you were my niece."

"Edgar!" I repeated, this time more harshly. "I wasn't supposed to hear any of that."

He shook his head like I should've known that from the start. "You know how the government is. Hush hush."

"This is illegal," I said under my breath, suddenly paranoid of everyone surrounding me. "You can lose your job for this."

He shrugged as if to say, no biggie, and sipped his drink. Whatever. Just anybody can walk in the CDC and get a job. "Guess you're apart of two illegal things now. Ah, three, including not being a legitimate US citizen."

I grinded my teeth and looked down at my fizzy green drink. "Whatever. I turn twenty one next month, anyway."

Edgar took another sip and nodded towards the bar. "Try explaining that to the new bartender."

I looked back at the empty bar and looked the replacement over. No suit, balding head, and defiant look spread across his features told me that he didn't belong here. Well, neither did I, but at least I got invited. He definitely didn't.

"Welp, let's see about that," I said to Edgar, clicking my tongue and downing the rest of my drink. Making sure I didn't flash anyone, I carefully got up from the table and made my way to the bar, sitting down on the furthest barstool to the left.

"Refill?" I asked casually, trying my hardest to sound prissy and older.

The man studied me, and, definitely noticing that I was underage, mixed me another martini.

"Sneak in too?" he asked with a Georgia twinge that I wasn't expecting.

I gratefully took the filled glass from his hands. "No, this really isn't my scene. I got invited, actually. Still not technically supposed to be here."

The man nodded, not striking me as the friendly type but was willing to make an acceptation on account of the circumstances. "What's yer story?"

"Plus one," I shrugged, thinking there wasn't much more to it. "I'm not family to I have to pretend to be."

The man pulled out a bottle of Jack from behind the counter, and, first making sure no one was looking, he unscrewed the cap and gulped a hefty load of it down. As an addition to his drinking, I decided to take a sip of mine.

"Oh, God," I said, the liquid still in my mouth. It burnt like hell. "This is disgusting!"

"Say hello ta straight alcohol!" The man laughed manically. "Welcome ta grownup land, jailbait."

"I'm twenty, asshole," I spat, letting the alcohol fall back into the glass. My mouth still felt weird, and it tasted awful, like exactly how rubbing alcohol smells.

As he laughed on, I glanced back at Edgar, who watched me with a confused, worried, mama bear expression. When I shrugged, the man grunted and tapped me on the shoulder.

"Wanna hear my story?" he asked, a little too close and a little too creepy. The side of my lip raised and I nodded.

He chuckled and leaned against the counter. "Ya see, me 'n my lil' brother're kinda low on money. 'Nd he can hunt and all, but," he chuckled once more and looked me over, "we're missin' some other goods."

"Doesn't explain why you're here," I was quick to say, playing with the notion of him calling me goods. "Sluts would be much cheaper than me."

"Yer not gettin' what I'm sayin'," he said, starting to sound just like a conspiricist. "I'm here 'cuz what's 'bout to happen." He pointed to the hand sanitizer that hat on the counter. Specifically, the word apocalypse.

I snickered. "Lay off the drugs, man."

"I'm serious," he said loudly, luckily not loud enough to be heard over the Jazz ensemble that replaced Mr. Williams. "The 'goods'. I mean the supplies ta prepare. What Mr. Williams jus' said was fuckin' invaluable. The survival 'f the fittest has begun."

"So what," I sneered, setting down the glass and standing up, "you're gonna leak it on the internet? Tell everyone and bask in the fame when it really happens?"

"Naw," he said, sniffling his nose and rubbing it, "I'm gonna keep it for myself 'nd have my lil' brother 'nd me be the last ones 'live on this planet."

I looked at him one last time before forcing a second of breath past my lips. "You're crazy."

"I'm right," he said, gazing at me intensely. "You'll see."

Before I had time to retort something about him being inbred, a storm of police officers charged in, tackling the man to the ground. In the process, one of the bulkier guys slid into me, knocking my head straight into the ledge of the counter. Everybody gasped and stood as I fell, like I was the President or something, and Edgar rushed over to pick me up.

"Are you okay?" Edgar asked, helping me to my feet. I looked at the exit door just in time to see the man staring right at me before disappearing into the dark.

My head began to throb, sending jolts of pain through my forehead that were worse than a migraine. I lightly touched the tender wound, and groaned when blood ran down my fingertips.

"I'm a doctor!" Someone yelled, not surprising me the slightest that there was a doctor at a CDC get together. She rushed over to where Edgar and I stood, her brown, incredibly long braid swooshing back and forth as she ran catching my eye.

Making me sit back down on the barstool, she inspected the gash that was located in a clearly visible place right in the middle of my forehead.

"It's pretty deep," she commented, sniffing my glass of alcohol and then pouring a bit on my head.

It burnt worse than tasting it. "Ow, Jesus!"

The doctor ignored my cry. "Is there anywhere I can take her? I believe she's had a concussion."

Edgar nodded. "I rented a hotel room."

"Okay," the doctor said, helping me stand and guiding me out the doors. Walking made me even dizzier than I already was. "My name is Alice. You're going to be alright."

I concentrated on her words until I couldn't concentrate on anything anymore. Blinking rapidly, my attempt to stay conscious took a downward tumble, and I fell backwards into Edgar. My last thoughts surrounded upon what the redneck man said to me: 'the supplies to prepare' and how valuable Mr. Williams words were to him. It started making me think of the possibilities of an apocalypse.

Lo and behold, the next morning I woke to an empty hotel room with the windows boarded and the door locked. I didn't remember a thing from the CDC'S party, other than Mr. Williams' speech. The rest was blank. And so, the survival of the fittest had begun.


	5. Tamer Animals

For some reason, I didn't feel bad about being harsh to Daryl. Usually I did; saying something and immediately wanting to take it back. I was feeling especially bitchy that day, probably because of the lack of sleep and the un-lack of pain. I'd thought that I'd want to take it back tomorrow.

Regret. That's another thing our lives surrounded upon. Tears, pain, and regret. You might as well throw chance in there, too.

Anyway, as my mind filled with mundane thoughts, I impatiently watched Daryl stuff as many granola bars as would fit in the pack, leaving no room for my knife.

"Did they head to the farm?" I asked with crossed arms, already expecting the answer I got.

"Yeah," he replied, pushing on the bars and closing the flap. A few still poured out and landed on the dirt. "'S good I asked Rick where this farm is before getting' you."

My face fell further as his words registered in my head. Shane should've, he must've, said something to Daryl. "Hmm, that's odd," I muttered, just loud enough so he could hear, "did you talk to anyone else?"

Daryl paused and didn't turn around to face me, realizing also that I caught his lie. "I only talked ta Rick."

"Sure about that?" I asked fiercely, slowly approaching him. With my index finger, I drew little circles on his back, informing him that I was right behind him.

"Yup," Daryl replied, turning around and placing his hands on my hips. I crossed my arms once again. "I'm sure."

Unlike Daryl, I obviously wasn't sure. I wasn't sure what I was more upset about: the fact that Daryl was lying to me and knew I could tell or the fact that he was trying to distract me from it.

My lips remained pursed until he leaned down to kiss them repeatedly, smiling in between kisses.

"If you're looking for forgiveness, I'm all out of that," I said, secretly loosening up. I didn't let my body language show it.

"I'm sorry," Daryl apologized, still continuing the lovey charade. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I wasn't going to accept it too soon. "Sorry for what? So you did talk to somebody else?"

"You asked if I talked ta anyone. _I _didn't," he explained, backing away to look into my eyes. "But I'm sorry. I know what'cha meant and I shoulda told you that Shane said somethin' to me, 'cept I didn't reply."

Relaxing my muscles slightly, I gave him a little peck on the cheek. "What did Shane say to you?"

Daryl looked away in the distance and gritted his teeth slightly. "It's nothin' important."

My lips formed a straight line as I waited, what he recognized as waiting for the truth. "Oh really?"

Daryl sighed and slouched back on the motorcycle. "Okay, okay. He offered to get you while me 'n Rick went out lookin' for Sophia."

I kissed him on the lips. "And you said no?"

"I didn't say anything ta 'em. I told ya, Rick was the only one I talked to."

Pursing my lips, I reluctantly thought that I indeed got my answer, I just wasn't too happy about it. Truthfully, I didn't know what to expect. These days, you either expect everything and get nothing or expect nothing and get everything. Cheesy, yes. Accurate, in the worst way.

"Okay," I said, patting his chest and straddling the bike. "I guess we'll go meet them now. Anything else happen while I was gone?"

Daryl paused for thought. "Camp got overrun and Sophia went missin'. That's pretty much it."

"When did you leave?" I asked, not expecting an honest answer, even though I'd never know if he was lying or not.

"Right when everybody else started leavin', like I said, they went left, I went right."

Daryl got on the motorcycle and again waited for me to get a grip around his chest before starting it. With a push of his foot, he released the kickstand and did a U-turn out of the parking lot.

Just as we started to leave, the Walkers made an appearance. As a precautionary measure, I flipped out my knife, just in case a geek got too close. Daryl also realized the Walkers were getting dangerously close to us, and tapped his back, where the strap of his crossbow lay.

"No way," I shook my head, grinding my teeth as he slowed the motorcycle down and rested on the shoulder of the road. "You know how well that went last time."

He looked back at me, his patience slightly strained. "You need th' practice."

"I don't need to practice shit," I said, my eyesight distracted on the nearing geeks.

Daryl rolled his eyes and pulled my shoulder, raising his eyebrows when I looked at him. "Ya ain't got no gun, yer sniper rifle can't be used while movin', and your knife ain't gonna do shit."

"So you're suggesting I should start practicing now, so when I miraculously find my own crossbow, I'll know what the hell to do with it?" I said, ending up with a yell, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Yep, there's that regret I was missing.

"No," he said, a little defensive. "I'm just sayin' that there may be a time where yer gonna need to use it." Before he slung the crossbow off his shoulder, he looked at me with a sorrow that I hadn't seen since Merle's disappearance.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Wait, you're pretty much telling me that if you ever…" I paused and swallowed, "got bit, that I would have to take your crossbow?"

Daryl shrugged slightly. "'S just a thought."

I sat there for a few moments before reluctantly taking the weapon from his hands and aiming it at the nearest Walker. With a little bit of concentration, the rest of it focused on Daryl's odd remark, I shot a bolt straight into its eye.

Taking a deep breath, I handed him back the crossbow, but he wouldn't take it. "What? I did it!"

"Another," Daryl encouraged. "This time, try right in the center, like I do."

Another deep breath and I lifted up the crossbow again, this time challenging myself to a further away target. Using the tricks of the trade used with sniping, I took a deep breath and sent another bolt into the Walker's forehead, slightly above where Daryl would get.

"Better," he praised, getting another bolt and setting it in place for me. "One more."

I followed his demands and shot yet another, this time even worse than last.

"God!" I exclaimed, shoving his crossbow to him. He took it and watched me rub the scar on my forehead.

Daryl sighed and took care of the rest, slinging it over his shoulder when they were dead for good. "Practice makes perfect."

I muttered under my breath and pushed wisps of my hair back and made a mental note to fix my hair once we got to the farm.

"Hey," Daryl said, tracing a finger over my scar. "Reminds me 'f a funny story Merle told me."

I scrunched my eyebrows and pretended to be interested in one of Merle's 'funny stories'. _Here we go again._

"He was tellin' me that there was this girl who got knocked over by a pig," he paused to laugh and shook his head. "Smashed her face into a counter."

I rolled my eyes and scratched the caked on dirt that coated my nails. "Hilarious."

"No, really," he said, chuckling a bit more. "Says that she was wearin' this black dress 'nd it was a day before shit hit tha fan. Sucks for her, huh."

I shrugged and thought back to the first day of the apocalypse, when I woke up in that hotel room…

.

.

_Holy shit, _I thought to myself. _Ho-ly shit. I don't remember anything._

I scrambled around the room, looking for anything to give me clues on what happened. I was too frightened to go outside yet, and better yet, I was unarmed.

_Okay, so maybe the windows are boarded up because there was a riot. This might not be- no, this can't be what I think this is._

Flashbacks of all the apocalypse video games I'd ever played spurted into my head, making adrenaline beat through my veins at a hundred miles a minute.

_This has happened before, _I told myself, nodding as I thought of the words. _Walking outside early in the morning when not a single soul is up. Hearing strange noises at night. This is just my imagination._

"Edgar?" I called out, swallowing hard when I heard noises in the hallway leading to the lobby. I pressed my ear to the front door and heard a glass have drop to the floor. "Alice, is that you?"

The footsteps stopped, and my heartbeat increased.

.

.

"Ayden…" Daryl said, his voice sounding distant. The second snap of my name awakened me from my memories. "You okay?"

"Uh," I muttered, clearing my throat before nodding. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Daryl nodded back and started the motorcycle, and didn't stop until we were driving up to the farmhouse.


	6. Veritas

**A/N: Yayyy, more Shane action xD. This chapter is really early because I already had it finished, and it's the same situation with most chapters from here on out. So, expect the grand finale (and I mean GRAND) in a week or two.**

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><p>By the time we reached the farm, it was already dusk.<p>

But it was a pretty kind of dusk: the one where everything has this hue of blue to it and the sky looks like a midnight purple. Being the first time I've ever been to a farm, I awed at the blue highlight to all the empty land.

Speaking of empty land, there wasn't any walkers. Anywhere. There was nothing but open plain surrounded by forest. That, and a big ass farmhouse, of course.

The only thing our energy levels allowed us to do was to say hi to everybody (or scowl at someone, in Shane's case) and pass out in the nearest bedroom.

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed. Slightly alarmed by my new surroundings, I scrambled out of the bed and slammed the door open.

No one was around, except this girl with short, brown hair that I didn't remember seeing when I first got in. She turned around and smiled, having two cups of coffee in her hands and giving one to me. I sipped it eagerly, and realized this was brewed from an actual _machine,_ not some strainer.

"Holy shit this is good!" I blurted out, and then chuckled nervously as I looked up to the stranger. "Sorry."

The young girl laughed and sipped her own coffee. "It's quite alright. Name's Maggie Greene. This is my father's, Hershel Greene's, farmhouse."

I nodded and looked around the spacious kitchen. "I'm Ayden Arezzo. Daryl's around here somewhere."

"Yeah, I heard a lot about you two," Maggie said, then furrowed her eyebrows. "D'ya know that the dark one talks about you, like, all the time?"

I kept a groan in and shrugged. "Anything he says in particular?"

A smile cracked on her face, and the groan escaped. "You sure you wanna know?"

"Not anymore," I muttered, downing the rest of my coffee and handing the cup back. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Yeah," Maggie replied happily. "Oh, and if you're looking for your boyfriend, he went to go find the little girl. Sophia, I think her name is."

As I took one step toward the front door, I stopped in my tracks. "My- my what?"

"Your boyfriend," she repeated like I was an idiot. "You know, the hillbilly one?"

"Right," I said casually, keeping myself from clenching my teeth and continued to walk out of the farmhouse.

_Wait a second; Daryl went out without me today?_

I kept calm, this thought surging me toward the Winnebago.

Sliding in the empty RV, I stressfully took a seat at the built in table and tried to calm my thoughts. I wasn't even sure what was going through my head. Betrayal, maybe?

Dale then entered the RV, for a short time looking glad to see me, then his expression changed to worried.

"What's getting to ya?" Dale asked in his usual kindly tone, taking a seat next to me and studying my nervous face. I attempted to smile, but a grimaced frown came across instead.

"Daryl went out without me today," I put blankly, making my words sound childish and dependent. This is not what I was going for and definitely not what I am.

"Well, so? He's a grown man," he attempted to comfort me, patting me on the back as I rested my head down, well, restlessly.

"That's not what I meant. I feel like- I mean...," I huffed, frustrated, not knowing how to explain myself, yet again feeling like a child. My wrist lazily swept up to my forehead to wipe away the accumulating sweat caused by the hundred degree weather.

"You feel like he's in danger," he bluntly said in the middle of my frustrated tantrum. I raised my head.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"It's the same feeling that made me take Andrea's gun away," he shrugged, looking off into the distance that radiated regret.

"I dunno Dale, I just feel like I should've gone along with him. I know he can handle himself and all. Maybe I'm clingy? Oh, god, Dale! Am I clingy?"

"Now, now. The worry is talking. I'm sure without you Daryl would be a mess, especially that Merle-"

"Walker. Walker!" I heard Andrea yell from above. I lifted myself fully from the tabletop, making sure I wasn't hearing things. She yelled it again, causing me to rush out of the Winnebago along with Dale and raise my hand above my brow. Andrea was in a commando mode of concentration as she stared down the object at the end of the field.

"Andrea, don't!" Dale yelled, only to be interrupted by Andrea's huff of annoyance.

"Don't tell me what to do," she rudely spat, raising Dale's sniper rifle. Shane, Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn were already at the edge of the field. No one seemed to be attacking anyone.

"Andrea," I unsurely spoke, my voice trembling as I still tried to see what was at the end, "I don't think that's-"

Not only were the boys at the end of the field not killing, it seemed like they were having a civil-ish conversation.

"Let me do this!" she yelled. I swallowed hard, attempting to moisten my dry as I pleaded with Andrea. I looked at Dale for assistance, begging for it with my eyes.

She readied the rifle on the metal bar that lined the top of the Winnebago, bringing her left eye close to the scope. I swallowed again, tightly clenching my eyes shut and my fists close as I waited for the shot. There was nothing I could do about it now.

Crack!

The gunshot echoed across the open fields as whatever Andrea just shot spun to the left and hit the ground.

"No, no, no!" From afar, Rick called. Just then, it immediately registered to me that it was Daryl she just shot.

"Daryl?!" I screamed, feeling the vibrations from my scream bounce off the Winnebago and hit me back. The last thing I glanced at before running to the boys was a sickening smug spread across Andrea's smile.

As I came closer to the area, they were picking up Daryl's body from the ground. The color drowned from my face when I saw his head wound to his left temple. Along with that, it looked like he had just fallen down a canyon with all the abrasions and bruises dotting his skin.

Shane practically tackled me before I got to Daryl. He looked dead, fear coursing through every bit of my body as Rick and T-Dog dragged him towards the farmhouse.

"Shh," Shane comforted, stroking my hair as I realized I was crying hardcore, "he's just unconscious. The bullet grazed him."

My fear quickly turned into anger, exhaustedly dropping to my knees before I punched my way out of Shane's grip. He got on his knees too, not for one second letting me go. His comforting almost worked until he asked me who shot him.

"Who the fuck do you think?" I sobbed, wiping my nose of blood that must've came from Shane's clothes. Which meant it was Daryl's blood, tears hanging on my bottom eyelids as I recognized this.

"Honestly, it coulda been anyone," he laughed nervously, moving to a sitting position and resting my head on his lap.

"Mrs. I'm-not-a-victim Andrea," I exaggerated, putting harsh air quotes around victim. I let go the last of my sobs and tears as Shane held me closer. If it was any other occasion, it would've been awkward. Possibly hot, but awkward. Hell, I was actually kinda getting turned on.

"I guess her decision of not being a victim just bounced off Daryl's skull, huh?"

I laughed and looked up at Shane's face, realizing that he was practically cradling me in his arms. Yet, I snuggled closer. It felt like we were two seconds from kissing before I heard panicky footsteps heading our way.

"Oh god, Ayden! I didn't know it was Daryl. Please, don't kill me, even though Daryl might. I swear if I knew-"

I quickly sat up straight and accepted Andrea's open hand, which was shaking harder than I was a minute ago.

"Listen Andrea," I said, laughing as I reconciled my emotions, "it's fine."

"I shoulda listened to you and Dale. Next time, I-" she paused for a second, shaking her head as Shane gathered up his opened shirt and stood up alongside of us. I blushed as I realized my cheek was on his bare chest.

"You're not mad?" Shane asked, even he sounded surprised. Even more surprised looks were suspiciously shot my way when I said what I did next.

"Sometimes I want to shoot Daryl, too. You just got the perfect chance," I smiled nervously and wiped sweat off my brow. Suddenly, I became dizzy; there were two of Shane as I stared into his worried expression.

"Ayden, are you okay?" Andrea asked, but her voice seemed so far away. I laughed again, my voice feeling almost bubbly as my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I took a dive backwards.

"Woah," Shane laughed, catching me before I hit the grass wheat, "we don't need another unconscious one."

He lifted me up and this time really cradled me in his arms.

"It's the heat," Andrea unnecessarily added, helping me to a drink out of her canteen.

"I think the conniption might be a small part of it," I amended, "No oxygen to the head and all."

"Has anyone told you that you are super smart when you suffer from heat stroke?" Shane jokingly added. I laughed one of the dorkiest laughs I've ever heard and looked up at him.

"Do ya... Wanna hear a secret?" I almost felt high, either that or extremely close to death.

"I don't know if that's a good idea in your condition," he uneasily commented, but I could hear the curiosity in his voice.

"Oh, come on, it's okay," I waved with my hand and tried to get closer to his ear but on account of my dwindling energy, I couldn't lift myself up any higher than an inch. I ended up whispering really loud, forgetting Andrea was still walking with us.

"I think your scars are reallllly sexy," I half purred, but instead of it coming out sensual like it was supposed to, it sounded like I was trying not to choke on my own tongue.

"Really?" he genuinely asked, looking down at me, surprisingly making my heart skip a beat. "Sexier than Daryl's scars?"

"I wouldn't go that far," I snorted and got an irresistible urge to lick his bare chest. That is, before I passed out in his arms. 

A cool breeze to my neck woke me up, making me smile contently and roll over on the comfortable bed to find the source of it. Like whom I expected, Daryl was drowsily staring back at me. I examined the wrapped bandage around his head. And his waist.

"What year is it?" I jokingly asked, extending my legs from the crumpled fetal position I usually slept in. Have you ever heard that they say what position you sleep in reflects on your personality? Well, it's bullshit.

"Jeez, I dunno. You and me both have been knocked out for over four hours," he whispered, toying with the usual piece of hair that he messed with when laying down. For some reason, I always enjoyed that.

"Four hours," I repeated, groaning as I rubbed my tired eyes. I scoffed and rolled back over, intent to going back to sleep. Daryl thought otherwise.

"I got good news and I got bad news," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and scooting closer.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

I yawned and opened my eyes, scrunching my nose as I smelt something cooking. It nauseated me as much as it made me hungrier, which I'm quite aware it makes no sense. Really, does anything ever make sense these days?

"Well, what is it, tough guy? Wanted to be an adventurer but took an arrow to the knee?" I smirked, hinting greatly at the video game reference.

"Actually, I took an arrow to the side. Well, fell on it," he started and paused to wait for my reaction. I gave it to him by jarringly twisting my body to urgently- and very closely, face him.

"That's what the side bandage is for?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, his redneck accent showing proudly. It was something I secretly adored about him, even though I acted like I hated it.

"Is that the bad news?" I asked.

"No, I thought that was news you already knew. The whole point of news is it being new."

"Uh, hello? By the time you got dragged halfway across the field I was practically passed out into Sha-," I abruptly stopped, the memories of, apparently, four hours ago rushing back to my groggy head. Was it really like that or was it the heat?

"What about Shane?" Daryl suspiciously asked, slightly loosening his grip on my waist.

"Nothing," I quickly said- too quickly, he caught on right away, "Shane just saved me from eating dirt is all. What about that good news/bad news? You never told me."

"Umm," Daryl muttered, my sudden change of subject briefly surprising him, "well, the good news is -"

"Wait, tell me the bad news first," I interrupted. I gave him a cocky smile as he squinted his eyes at me.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because, think about it. If you tell me the good news first and leave the bad news for last, you leave the listener lingering on the bad. Vice versa and they can linger on the good and the bad doesn't feel as shitty."

"Wow, you got that down to a science," he chuckled, raising his eyebrows. He always got extremely impressed when I went into detail about things. I think it turned him on.

"So," I snickered, "you gonna tell me or what?"

He huffed. "Well, the bad news is I think I hallucinated Merle."

This caught my attention quick.

"That's the bad news," I rhetorically asked.

"I wasn't finished yet, jeez. Let me talk," he said, kissing my head when I looked at him angrily. "I didn't mean it to come out like that."

"'S okay. Everyone has had a bad day. Go on."

"I hallucinated him, but better yet, we had a conversation. He told me to kill Rick."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Do you know hallucinations are just part of your subconscious?"

"Is that right?" he asked, even though I was pretty sure I'd told him this before.

"Well, do you agree?"

"With killing Rick?" Daryl asked honestly, and replied just as honest, "I've thought about it. Not seriously or anything, but it crossed my mind."

"What's the good," I yawned, cuddling closer and into his arms, "before I fall asleep."

"I found Sophia's doll. In the river. Hope she was smart enough not to drink it."

"Dead pieces floating around?" I asked drowsily, letting my eyelids fall.

"More like dead bodies. Fuckers chewed my shoe," he laughed and rested his head next to mine.

Suddenly, I smelt the strong aroma of hamburgers fill the room. My eyes shot open just as Daryl flipped around to see who entered the room.

"Thought I'd bring this in," Carol said in her regular friendly tone, "Ayden, I'll be back for yours."

"Thanks, Carol," I sweetly replied.

"Thanks," Daryl repeated softly and moving back to face me.

Caution, now. This moment was when I, Ayden, started to doubt Carol's nice intentions. And I never thought I would. Tsk tsk.

She hastily bent down and kissed Daryl's forehead, making my head back away way too quickl; Daryl's eyes widened when he got the gist of my emotions. Carol went too far that time; I didn't care if she just kissed him on the forehead or full blown tried to make out with him.

"Thanks for risking your life and finding my baby girls doll today."

"Yeah, no problem." Daryl quickly said, avoiding my glare.

"I'll be back," she whispered to me. I attempted to say something, but only a shaky nod came out.

"Don't be upset, please," Daryl pleaded and held my head as soon as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

"Upset," I repeated, "I'm not upset. It was just... A little kiss. Like a family kiss."

The thought of Carol taking Daryl shook me up bad. Thoughts started racing through my head that were as unfair as her taking him. I didn't even mean half of them.

"I think I'm fit to eat with the others," I choked out.

"Baby, don't let this be about Carol."

"It's not," I stated truthfully, taking off my side of the covers and levering myself into an upright position. "I need to talk to Shane anyway." 

I walked into a very full dining room, filled with happy conversations and people chowing down food like there was no tomorrow. Oh, wait. That could happen.

"You're alive," Shane called happily, shoving a fry into his mouth after taking his foot off a reserved chair beside him.

"That's why I didn't bring you in a tray right away," Carol slyly said, glancing at Andrea. I could safely assume Andrea knew I'd come out.

"Hamburgers," Andrea commented, "it's Ayden's favorite."

I nodded happily and took a seat next to Shane, waiting for the plate of fries to be passed around a second time.

"So, did that actually happen or was it just the heat?" I quietly asked Shane as I helped myself to three hamburgers. Maggie gave me a surprised look.

"What?" he asked, although I think he had a pretty good idea what I was referring to.

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Lori told Maggie, laughing as I put a questionable amount of ketchup on the bun. "Her ability to eat endlessly doesn't compare to her ability to run endlessly."

I stuck out my tongue before taking the bowl of fries from my right, from T-Dog. I smiled as a thank you.

"Did I really tell you that your scars are sexy?" I asked quietly, making Shane half choke on his burger.

"Yes, then you told me Daryl's scars are sexier. Hurts, ya know."

I bit my lip anxiously before digging into one of my burgers, looking around to see if anyone heard him.

"I meant it," I briefly said, "it wasn't just the heat talking."

He paused for a minute, frantically looking around everywhere except at me, like he always did when he thought about something difficult.

"You have Daryl. That's how it is," Shane said seriously, finally looking into my eyes. I swallowed what I had in my mouth before I spoke again.

"I didn't ask if you felt the same, Shane-"

"But what if I do," Shane interrupted, the whole room becoming suddenly quiet. We glanced around nervously, my eyes especially lingering on Rick on account of him being Shane's best friend. I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew.

"Listen," he whispered once everyone went back to their own conversations, "I can't become involved with you. Not with Daryl still around."

"What's wrong with Daryl?"

"He loves you, Ayden. I can see love in his eyes, no matter how stupid this sounds."

I held my breath for a few seconds, becoming slightly dizzy again.

"How can you tell?" I asked, my turn to be serious.

"It's that same glisten that Rick has when he looks at Lori." He paused to recollect his thoughts. "Has he told you he loves you yet?"

"Yes," I explained, painful memories flooding back from two months ago, "at the CDC, Before Jenner opened the doors. I thought maybe it was one of those death decisions, you know?"

"Can I suggest something?"

"Suggest away." I muttered, returning back to a normal speaking volume and starting on my second hamburger.

"Before you two go to bed, tell him."

"What if I don't mean it?" I asked, just curious to what he'd say.

"Jesus, don't be stupid. I've seen the way you look at him too, and it's not just from the eyes," Shane roughly said, returning to his plate of food and the other conversations around him.

"What about- what about Carol," I asked him.

"What about her?"

"Is Daryl-" I couldn't force my voice to spit out the rest.

"You're fine," Shane comforted, "Nothing's to worry about between them."

I inhaled with relief, but my exhale was doubtful. Since when did Shane become a relationship counselor? 

"Hope you had enough to eat," Daryl said as I quietly shut the door.

"I had three hamburgers and a shit load of fries; I think I'm good for the next two weeks. Did I wake you?" I asked before stripping down to my undies and scooting into the bed covers.

"Nope, just got done eating," he yawned and replaced his hand on my waist.

"Did you get enough to eat?" I asked in turn.

"A little more," he yawned one again, making me drowsy, "wasn't that hungry in the first place."

I loved how when he got tired he left words out of his sentences. The more tired he got, the more words he left. I knew when he fell asleep because he didn't reply anymore, of course.

There were a few moments of silence before I head the door open again. We both turned over to see Lori innocently standing in the doorway.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, smiling like this was the first time we cuddled together. Daryl was very fond of public cuddling.

"No, not at all," I said, getting out of bed and pulling on my jeans.

"Oh," Lori said and turned around. I laughed wholeheartedly.

"Lori, we're both girls. We've changed in the same room before."

"It's different with Daryl. No offense."

"None taken," he drowsily replied.

"Well, if I was completely naked in bed with Daryl, it'd be a different story," I laughed.

"Sounds good plan," Daryl muttered, getting confusing looks from Lori.

"He means sounds like a good plan," I whispered, pulling my t-shirt over my head, "he leaves out words when he's tired."

Lori made an aww sound before following me out of the room, quietly closing the door in back of her.

"So, what's up?" I asked, looking around the farmhouse to see everyone either rushing around or talking.

"We are friends, right?" she asked slowly, glancing around to find any eavesdroppers around.

"Umm," I said, thinking this was an odd type of question, "I'm pretty sure since we are two of the four girls in camp; we are either friends or enemies, right?"

"Yes," she said confidently, but then her smile dropped, "wait, we're not enemies-"

"No, Lori," I laughed, "we're friends."

She took a deep breath and laughed nervously. "Well, that's good."

"What's on your mind?" I asked when she didn't say anything else. It was uncharacteristic of her not to have anything to say.

"I think-" she paused and looked around again before whispering so quiet I could barely make out what she said, "I think I might be pregnant."

"Oh," I said, "Oh no."

"Yeah," she said, her voice shaking tremendously.

"Have you told Rick?" I asked, and then shook my head when she did.

"No, I haven't told Shane either."

"Shane? Why would you tell-" I stopped abruptly when she nervously bit her lip.

"Please," she pleaded, tears forming in her eyes. My dizziness came back suddenly, swaying my so much that I had to prop my hand on the wall. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't. Promise," I muttered before slipping on my own two feet and smacking my head on the wall, knocking me out cold.


End file.
